


Isolated.

by padlockandpastels



Category: Heathers, Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Arguments, Attempted Suicide, Bad Ending, F/F, Scrap, ansgt, attempted overdoss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-26
Packaged: 2019-06-16 14:01:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15438609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padlockandpastels/pseuds/padlockandpastels
Summary: Duke goes after McNamara instead of Veronica. Doesn’t go as well.





	Isolated.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chanduke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanduke/gifts).



The moment the bathroom door flies open she nearly drops the pills. She had never held her breath so long. Her gaze stared at the locked stall door, horrified.

She had finally got the cap off. The bottle was full. It was about to be empty.

There's a scoff. Heels clicking. McNamara went cold. _Duke_.

She jumped when there's a knock on the stall door. She nearly whimpers.

"Are you done crying yet?" It's harsh. It was harsh when she got yelled at in front of the camera crew too.

She doesn't answer. Her hands are trembling.

"Fuck, Mac, I'm gonna get suspended unless you find back to class. Come on. Let's go."

"Screw off." It's a sneer. And honestly? Felt good to say.

There's a pause. Was she surprised? She flinched when Duke kicked the stall.

"Heather, get out. Hell, are you serious? Sorry about the crap I said in class." It was dull. Meaningless.

"Go away. I'm serious." Her voice rattled.

Duke pursed her lips. "Open the door."

_"No."_

"Open the door!"

Mac forgot the locks in Westerberg were broken half the time. Blue, terrified eyes slipped up as the door fell open.

Both girls froze. McNamara slumped against the wall, pill bottle in hand. Duke in the doorway, arms limp at her side, gaze confusion.

"What?" She spoke slowly.

The gears turned. " _Leave me alone_." She snapped. The cheerleader hugged, tears in her eyes as she shoved past the other. A hand grabbed her wrist.

"What the hell is that?" It's bitter, yet, concerned.

The bottle was plucked out of her hand before she could respond. Dumped down the drain before she could reach forward.

"Heather, what the hell!" The cheerleader glared, attempting to yank her arm away. It didn't budge.

"Were—were you gonna take those?"

"Why do you care?" Its weak. Weaker than it has been in months. It was only that weak at Chandler's funeral.

Her grip slipped. "I care about you, asshole."

Heather could have slapped her in that moment. "Why can't you just leave me alone?" A step forward. Duke stepped back. "You've only cared about yourself since Heather _died_! You broke up with me because you didn't want me to ruin your fucking reputation."

She isn't sure she's ever seen Mac this mad. And it's weird. Because she's sobbing while shouting it.

"You-you—" a hiccup. "You're so selfish. You don't care—Heather, I fucking _loved_ you-and you just—" the teenager wobbled, slipping down the wall, breaths short.

Duke doesn't move at first. Her ears are ringing. "Don't forgive me."

"What?" A sob.

"I wouldn't forgive me, either." She breathed. A step forward and Mac shrunk against the wall.

Tears burn like poison in her indigo eyes. “Maybe I won’t then.” Her lips trembled, voice drenched in too much emotion. It’s supposed to be vile, a hiss of pent up anger—but she barely can manage to speak with trembling or crying. “You don’t deserve it.” She swallows the lump in her throat, glossy gaze not managing to stay on her green—no, now _red_ —counterpart. She isn’t she ever wants to look at that again.

Duke is silent. Now of all times she’s decided to shut up it seemed.

Heather can’t look up. “Now leave.” A croak, eyebrows knitting. Tear stains trickled down her flushed features. Her body ached with grief. “Just walk out of my life like everyone else has been doing lately. You’ve always been one to follow popular trends like that.” Her lips pursed.

The other doesn’t speak. It’s the sound of heels that cues her get away. Slow & solemn until the bathroom door creaked shut.

Duke doesn’t come back.

**Author's Note:**

> Most of this is from a year ago, I just finished it. So it lowkey sucks—sorry. I had an ending planned but it’d been so long I forgot and did that oops.


End file.
